Perfect
by Pied Piper
Summary: He had not been the sort to dream about his first kiss, but he could not have imagined one more perfect than that.


**Perfect**

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**Summary**: He hadn't really imagined his first kiss before, but it couldn't have gone more perfectly.

* * *

_They say we're too young now to amount to anything else_

_But look around_

_We work too damn hard for this just to give it up now._

"She Looks So Perfect" by 5 Seconds of Summer

* * *

The last time they had had a party like this, Hida Iori had been too sick to go. Well, that wasn't true. He'd told his friend he was too sick, when actually he was only a little sore from competing in the prefectural kendo competition earlier that day, and he had been too tired.

This time, his friend looked at him with such watery, hopeful blue eyes that Iori couldn't think of an excuse fast enough. He heard himself promise to come before he could really comprehend what doing so would mean, and by then, Takaishi Takeru's face had brightened to such a degree that it would have been cruel to take the promise back. Anyway, that was one thing Iori never did, take back promises. And maybe this party wouldn't be so bad. One of the girls was home from college and wanted to see everyone, and even Takeru's brother would be there, also visiting from university during the long holiday weekend.

"But don't worry," assured Takeru as they walked together from the cafeteria, "he won't bother us."

"That's okay," said Iori, because it was. He hoped Yamato would make an appearance. Yamato had always treated him nicely, and he might even be willing to share some advice about university applications.

The warning bell rang, and Takeru picked up his pace. He called back over his shoulder before disappearing up the staircase, "Don't forget, we're meeting at my place. See you then!"

Iori waved hesitatingly, then made for his own classroom on the first floor. Takeru was two years older than him, a third-year student at their local high school. The boys were neighbors and had been since they were children, and even despite their age difference, they were close. Iori also felt a certain kinship to Takeru's older brother. Maybe it was because he was an only child himself and had always wanted a sibling, or maybe it was because Yamato always treated Iori like an adult instead of the youngest kid in the room, even if he usually was.

Iori spent the remainder of his afternoon classes considering his new plans for the evening. He was so absorbed in the growing anxiety that he didn't respond when his teacher called on him to read from the next passage in their civics text, and he was given extra lines for homework after a short public scolding. His face turned a deep red as the teacher lectured him about his poor attentiveness in front of the class, and he forced himself to ignore the snickering from the back of the room when he returned to his seat.

After that humiliation, Iori was more stressed. He lingered at his desk after the final class ended and his homeroom was dismissed, pretending to shuffle through his notebooks until only a few students remained behind, chatting amongst themselves. There were no afternoon clubs that day on account of a school-wide teachers' meeting, and the captain of his kendo club was absent anyway. Iori considered visiting the third-years' hallway to seek out Takeru, maybe walk home with him, but when he stepped into the hallway, he saw the boys who'd been laughing at him in class. They were huddled at the bottom of the staircase that led up to Takeru's homeroom, and Iori immediately changed his mind.

He made a beeline to the students' entrance, removing his indoor slippers and putting on his sneakers quickly, and left the school, head bowed to avoid attention. The grounds were still crowded with students, happily paired off with their friends, but Iori walked alone. He paused to button up the collar of his uniform, shivering in the early winter cold, then continued on his way.

His mother had always taught him not to enter another person's home on invitation without bearing a small gift of appreciation, and as it was a little party, he thought he should bring some snacks. So he made his way to the convenience store that was midway between the school and Takeru's mother's apartment, in the neighboring building to where Iori lived with his mother and grandfather.

When they were in junior high school, their small group of friends had often met after school at Takeru's home because it was so close by, and because it was quite spacious for raucous children and Takeru's mother was much more tolerant of hosting her son's friends than the other parents. The junior high school was on the same campus as the high school most of them chose to attend as well, except for Motomiya Daisuke, who had enrolled in the local commercial high school at the opposite end of town, and Inoue Miyako, who had gone to the private girls' high school in the next city. Iori, Takeru, and Yagami Hikari were the three who had been admitted to their city's prestigious academic high school. Iori had been more relieved than delighted that he had passed the difficult entrance exam for his high school. It meant that even after his childhood friends had gone off to junior high school, then high school, earlier than he did, he was still able to see most of them on a daily basis. It meant that no matter how alone he might feel sometimes, he didn't have to be lonely with friends so close.

All of this would change this March. The third-year students would be graduating in just a few short months, and after that, Iori would be by himself, and it would no longer be a choice.

He loved his friends more than they would ever really know, and he also valued the time he had to himself, too. When he was alone, he was in charge, and having control was the only way Iori could really make sure he was prepared.

But no amount of preparation would be enough for Iori to face what would come after graduation, after Takeru, Hikari, and Daisuke would leave for good.

He had had a little taste of what it would feel like when Miyako had graduated high school last March and gone on to a women's college in Okayama. But Miyako was very close to her family and often visited home, so Iori had seen her several times since her move, and would again tonight.

It was the others that worried Iori.

Daisuke was always talking about his dream of moving to Osaka, a noodle haven, and Hikari was keen on going to Kobe, both for its reputation and the city's vibrant culture. Takeru, meanwhile, had higher aspirations. The blond youth had told Iori a few months ago about his dream of going to college abroad, something that his mother had been encouraging him to pursue. None of them seemed interested in staying in Tokyo.

Iori did not like to think about that.

At the convenience store, he purchased a large bottle of soda, a few chocolate candies, and some puffed savory snacks that he knew Miyako loved but couldn't find in Okayama. It was only a few more blocks to Takeru's apartment, but he decided he should wait on the bench outside the entrance for his friend instead of entering the flat first. He knew he was always invited to do so, and that Takeru's mother was more like real family than the parent of a close friend, but he was too polite to make use of these liberties unless specifically told to do so. Takeru and Hikari would be along shortly, he knew, and he decided it was better to wait for his host, just in case.

So he waited on the bench, the plastic bags from the store at his feet and his own schoolbag on his lap, back straight and attentive. He stared out at the street in front of him, watching the cars pass by for several quiet moments, until he felt his cell phone buzzing in his pocket.

It was a text from Hikari: _Third years have to stay for an extra reading period, boring! Daisuke's already on the bus & he'll fuss if he's got to wait outside. Can you go let him in? Mrs Takaishi is still at work, but Yamato's home. Thank you, Iori!_

With a sigh of amusement at the thought of Daisuke's obnoxious whining, Iori gathered up his bags and headed into the apartment building. Takeru and his mother lived on the second floor, so Iori took the stairs. He balanced the bags in one hand, shifting the weight carefully, and rang the doorbell.

There was the sound of footsteps, and the door slid open.

Before him stood not the chiseled frame of Takeru's popular older brother, but the young petit figure of Yamato's girlfriend. Her long wavy hair was teased up in loose curls around her oval face, and she wore a dark navy blue dress imprinted with a repeating white anchor motif. Her wrists and fingers were adorned with several different gold bracelets and rings, matching her glittering earrings, three piercings in her right ear and two in her left. When she moved, Iori caught the scent of jasmine in her perfume.

She grinned at him, clasping him by the wrist, which startled the youth.

"You must be Iori," she said pulling him into a tight and friendly hug.

His face red, he stammered, confused, "Yes, I am."

"Yamato's in the kitchen," said the woman cheerfully, releasing him. "Come on in. I'll take those bags," and she grabbed them before he could politely decline. She was already walking away to the kitchen by the time Iori had slipped off his shoes and entered the living room, calling loudly ahead of her, "Yamato, your brother's friend is here!"

There were a few sounds of pot lids being moved to their containers, and then Yamato himself appeared in the doorway of the kitchen, bracing himself with a hand on the post and wiping his forehead with the other. Yamato shared Takeru's brilliant blond hair color and startling blue eyes. They were both taller than average, with the kind of lean athletic build that Iori seemed to have missed out on. Iori was still small for his age, making him look much younger than he actually was, with a small pointed face, still boyish and round, his flat brown hair and his dark, sullen eyes. Even in elementary school, Takeru had towered over him, a magnet for attention with his handsome features, but that was still nothing compared to his brother.

Now, Yamato smiled kindly at Iori, flashing him a wide and charming grin, something else he shared equally with his younger brother. "It's nice to see you, Iori. How are you?"

"I'm fine," said the boy, still stammering. "I'm sorry to bother you by coming by so early—,"

"Don't be. You know you're always welcome here." Yamato took the bags his girlfriend was holding out to him.

"I brought some snacks," explained Iori unnecessarily, which made the woman giggle.

"Isn't he the sweetest? That was very nice of you," she told him, and he blushed again. He couldn't meet her gaze, glancing away and shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"Oh, these are great, thanks!" Yamato placed the bags on the counter, taking out the soda. "We'll put the drink in the fridge, and we can set the rest on the coffee table. Or are you guys going to be hanging out in Takeru's room?"

Iori wasn't sure. The previous times they'd gathered, it had been in the living room, but if Yamato was going to be sharing the apartment tonight, too, Iori wasn't sure what Takeru preferred.

His question was answered a few seconds later, when the doorbell rang again. This time Yamato answered, and Daisuke's loud, complaining voice echoed throughout the apartment. "I can't believe he invites us all over to his house, and he's not even here!"

The pretty woman's eyebrow raised and she exchanged looks with Iori, who could only shrug wordlessly, as though that was the only explanation one could give for Daisuke. He appeared in the apartment just then, stalking on ahead of Yamato, who looked bemused but unaffected. After years of being around each other, the latter was used to his younger sibling's loudmouth best friend, and it would have to take more than a few minor bouts of whining to get annoyed by it.

"I had to take the early bus to get here, changing twice, which meant I had to—," and then he stopped. A look of stunned mortification briefly colored the teenager's tanned face, his spikey maroon hair sticking to his forehead. Then he blinked his large brown eyes and seemed to morph into a completely different person altogether. This person flashed a wide smile at Yamato's girlfriend, who looked genuinely alarmed by the transformation, and stretched out a gracious hand towards her. "Well, _hello_ there," he said in a silky voice that made Iori choke back an involuntary laugh and Yamato roll his eyes.

The woman politely accepted the handshake, which turned out to not be a handshake at all. Instead, Daisuke captured her hand in his and swept her fingers up to his lips for a dramatic kiss. This time, Yamato cleared his throat in exasperation.

"I'm Daisuke," he introduced himself. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Mimi," she said uncertainly, just as Yamato cut in, "She's not your sweetheart."

Daisuke waved his free hand at the older man dismissively. His attention remained solely on the woman in front of him. "That's a beautiful name, Mimi, for a beautiful girl. Someone like you should be spending time with a man who measures up to that standard, instead of," here, he jerked his chin at Yamato without taking his eyes off Mimi, who still was not sure what to make of the situation.

"Okay," interrupted Yamato then, his annoyed levels rising. He grabbed Daisuke by the back of the collar of his uniform. Unlike Iori's high school, which favored a traditional black uniform with brass buttons for the boys, Daisuke's school sported a pale blue button-up shirt with the logo embroidered on the breast pocket, paired with gray slacks and a deep blue tie that he wore undone and loose about his neck. Yamato took very little care in the way he wrinkled this uniform as he dragged the teenager away from his girlfriend. "I think you guys should wait in Takeru's room."

Daisuke called back to Mimi, "We should get to know each other—I'm a great listener!"

"Listen to a girl your own age," snapped Yamato, throwing the youth into his younger brother's room.

Iori scurried after his friend, grabbing the bag of snacks from the kitchen on his way. He glanced back at the couple just before he went inside; Mimi was giggling while Yamato, who was shaking his head, kissed her forehead and the pair went back to the kitchen to finish making their dinner.

Inside the room, Daisuke had already collapsed onto Takeru's bed, eagle-spread. He groaned, "Why do these guys always get the hot girls?" and gestured around him.

Iori took it to mean he was complaining about both brothers, and he shrugged.

"Must be the blond thing," mused Daisuke. "Girls are such suckers for blonds." He raked a thoughtful hand through his own curls. "Do you think I should dye my hair?"

"You can't while in school," reminded Iori, who looked alarmed at the thought of such a blatant violation of a common school code.

Daisuke rolled his eyes. "Maybe not at your school," he said with slight derision. Iori knew Daisuke really wasn't mocking his school, or that he harbored any judgments about it, but it still reminded him that they weren't in the same place every day. These days, thinking about that made Iori feel worse.

The doorbell rang again. Mimi had answered it once more, and soon the apartment was filled with female voices chatting cheerfully in excited tones. Daisuke propped himself up on his elbows when the door to Takeru's room opened again, but then collapsed onto his back again when the woman he wasn't interested in walked inside.

Inoue Miyako was dressed casually in pale blue jeans and a flowery top, under a long-sleeved beige jacket. She wore thin wire-rimmed glasses and a yellow headband tucked behind pierced ears. She tossed her long hair, now dyed purple (Daisuke rolled his eyes at yet another new color), over her thin shoulders and smiled brightly at Iori, who returned the grin with a sheepish one of his own.

"Hi, guys. Did you meet Yamato's girlfriend? She's so pretty!"

"How did he get a girl like that?" repeated Daisuke with another groan.

"Well," said Miyako, "Yamato's not exactly a forest troll."

"It's the blond thing," said Daisuke again, ignoring her remark. "I know it's the blond thing."

"It doesn't hurt."

"See?" He buried his face in his hands. "I can't wait to get to Osaka and meet some real women."

"Real women don't date boys," said Miyako wisely, and Daisuke aimed a kick at her legs. She dodged him with ease, settling into the chair at Takeru's desk.

Iori, who did not want to talk about Osaka, reached into the bag and pulled out the puffed cheese snacks he'd bought at the convenience store. Miyako cried out with delight, taking the bag as he handed it to her. "I know you like them."

"These are so hard to find in Okayama!" she said, happily tearing into the bag.

"That's probably for a good reason," muttered Daisuke. "Otherwise you'd be getting a lot fatter."

She rose from the chair threateningly, though Daisuke was not the least bit threatened, but before Iori could mediate the tension, he heard the apartment door open for a final time, and familiar voices flooded into the rooms once more. Iori sighed with relief as Takeru and Hikari appeared, the former tossing his school bag carelessly into the corner of the room by the bed and the latter gently placing her knapsack on the edge of the desk where Miyako was seated.

"Sorry about being late," said Hikari. Her short brown hair was pulled back from her eyes with a pink barrette. She looked at Iori directly, "Thanks for setting things up for us! Yamato said you brought snacks?"

Miyako, her fingers covered in edible orange dust, raised the bag of cheese puffs as proof and Hikari laughed.

Takeru, who had shoved Daisuke's legs off the bed, protesting about how his friend was getting stinky dirt all over his room, leaned on the mattress with his back to the wall. "So, should we order pizza?"

"Pineapple!" yelled Daisuke at once, and he, Takeru, and Miyako descended into arguments about the toppings, while Hikari shook her head knowingly and Iori looked on in silence, smiling a little.

They ended up ordering three different medium pizzas and sat on the floor of Takeru's room, munching on their greasy dinner and slugging through glass after glass of sugary soda. Daisuke had taken out his portable music player and fixed it up to the speakers on Takeru's desk, and the rock music was blaring through the room. They didn't hear the knock on the door over the noise of their music and conversation, and when Yamato finally poked his head inside, he was met with the sight of a very energetic group of teenagers, hopped up on sugar and carbs.

"Are you guys doing all right?" he asked, holding a glass bottle of beer and peering around the room with a look of deep suspicion, as though he had expected more of a disaster area than the current light mess of the room.

"Yes, _Dad_," teased Miyako, which elicited a groan of protest from Takeru.

Daisuke had straightened, eyeing the beer in Yamato's hand with interest. "But we could be doing a lot better."

Yamato narrowed his blue eyes at him. "Well," he announced to the rest of the group, wisely ignoring Daisuke's thinly veiled request for alcohol, "I'm gonna hop in the shower now. If you need anything, we're around."

"I could use her phone number," yelled Daisuke through a mouthful of pizza.

Yamato flipped him a rude hand gesture and left them to their conversation.

"So did Yamato bring her home for his whole vacation?" Miyako asked Takeru with interest.

The younger blond nodded. "Mom likes Mimi."

"Your mom has great taste," said Daisuke. He paused, "You know, your mom's pretty hot, too—,"

Takeru smacked him with a hand to the back of his head.

"Ow!" Daisuke launched a retaliating fist at him, which his best friend ducked easily.

"My parents would never let my boyfriend stay over," said Miyako wistfully. "Your parents are so much more relaxed."

"Well, he's in college now, so it's not like he's a kid anymore. He'll be twenty-one next month."

"What's he going to do after graduation?" Hikari asked, biting into the crust of her last slice of pizza.

Takeru shrugged. "I'm not sure. He might go to graduate school. Mimi's still got another year left, and I don't think he really wants to move away yet."

"At least he's smart," observed Daisuke at the same time Miyako gushed, "That's so romantic."

"It's hard to leave the people who are important to you," said Iori quietly.

Hikari looked at him sharply. His face turned pink and he glanced away, blinking quickly. He noticed the soda bottle was empty and quickly scrambled to his feet, muttering about getting another one for the group. Miyako requested water and he left the room to the sounds of their laughter over another of Daisuke's jokes.

He passed by the other bedroom on the way to the kitchen, and he heard the shower running. He could hear Mimi giggling softly and Yamato's low voice from behind the door, and the realization that they were in there together made Iori's face flush an even darker shade of red. He quickly hurried away from the intimate sounds and from the cheerful conversation of his friends. Everywhere, it seemed, he was getting reminders of what being alone really meant, of all the faults he seemed to have when it came to forming relationships.

His eyes prickling, he seriously considered just leaving the apartment altogether, then decided against it and sat down on the couch in the living room, taking a moment's respite from the evening to sort out his anxieties.

Iori did not know how he was going to handle the next two years.

It was only natural, he knew, for people to grow up and move on, and forget and lose touch. Was that going to happen to them? How many more nights like this would they have after everyone went on their own way? And what was going to happen to him? These were his real friends, his best friends, whether they knew it or not. Maybe he was the youngest, but that didn't mean he was naïve or stupid. It was his curse to choose to form relationships with people who had a tendency to leave him behind.

He frowned at himself, annoyed by the self-pity. He should be proud of his friends. They were going to all go on to do wonderful things, have full and meaningful lives. And they would stay in touch, somehow, over the years. There was no reason to sit here alone and brood about something that hadn't happened yet, and that might.

He told himself all these things, but that ache deep in his heart still pounded through his chest, drumming his darkest worries to the surface of his mind.

The truth was, Iori wasn't good at making friends. He wasn't good at speaking up, out, or at all, really.

He was not a proactive, self-assured person like Daisuke was. He wasn't outgoing and optimistic like Takeru. He didn't have Miyako's ability to befriend anyone, or Hikari's deep capacity for empathizing even with strangers. He was unlike all of them, and what really worried him, more than them leaving, was the dark realization that he didn't belong with them in the first place, and he never had.

He was the odd one out, and after March, it was only going to become more obvious, and maybe they'd realize it, too.

"Are you all right?"

He started, looking around in surprise, and saw it was only Mimi.

She wore a towel around her hair and one of Yamato's T-shirts over a thin pair of pajama shorts, her jewelry gone. Her skin was smooth and clean, unblemished and perfect, like porcelain. He didn't even realize he was staring until she laughed, "Do you always look so serious?"

He blushed, "I just think a lot."

"That's a good thing," said Mimi. "One of my best friends is like that, and he's the smartest person I know."

Iori shook his head. "I just think, but that doesn't mean I'm smart."

"Maybe not," Mimi allowed, "but you have kind eyes, and that's worth a lot more than smarts."

He mumbled a thank you, embarrassed by her attention.

She took a seat on the armchair beside the couch, looking at him with her own kind eyes. Iori thought her eyes were beautiful, and he wondered if it was the kindness that made them so, because he had never really seen that color before and there had to be something else in them that made them that way. "Yamato said you just started high school this year. Do you like it?"

Iori wanted to say he did, but for some reason, he found himself telling her the truth. "Not really. My classes are pretty hard."

Mimi nodded sympathetically. "I didn't like high school much myself."

This surprised him. She looked like she would have been like one of the popular girls in his homeroom, the ones who seemed like they had never been unhappy or alone in their entire lives. "You didn't?"

She shook her head, pulling the towel from her hair. Wet thin strands fell in damp curls over her shoulder, drops of water settling on her skin. "My father got a new job in the United States, so we moved there just before school started. I didn't know anyone, and I was so shy and uncomfortable. Things are so different in America than here. I was always anxious about saying and doing the right thing, whether or not I'd make any friends, you know? I only had a couple years left of school, and I didn't know how I wasn't going to handle being alone for all of them."

Iori's gaze dropped to the floor again. "What did you do?"

Mimi paused, smiling. "Nothing."

He looked up, his brow furrowed. He didn't understand, and she laughed at his confusion, nodding. "I know. But I really did nothing. I didn't try. I kept to myself. I made some friends, of course, and it got a little easier over time. But I was so stuck on the life I had left behind that I didn't do anything to make the one I had in front of me any better." She rubbed the towel over her wet hair, thoughtful. "If I could go back, I'd try more, I think. By the time I graduated, and I got ready to move back here for university, I realized that I had gotten to know all these people in my new life that I never gave myself to completely. I didn't know what I had, and then that was gone, too. I guess what I'm trying to say," she said finally, "is that it's important to be open to change, and to the ways we change, too."

Iori didn't say anything at first, his hands clasped together in his lap. "I know you're right," he admitted after a moment. "It's just…I'm afraid." It was the first time he'd admitted this aloud to anyone, and it came with such relief that he was not sure he would be able to hold back the tears that swelled up inside him as soon as he did.

"It takes a big man to admit his fear," said Mimi.

She did not tell him not to be afraid, or that his fears were unfounded, or that things would be easier. She simply acknowledged his confession for what it was: a truth, universal and sincere and completely okay.

For some reason, this confirmation made him feel better than he had in a really long time.

Then she winked, "That kind of self-realization is a trait to win quite a bit of attention from the ladies," she paused, "or the gentlemen."

He blushed again, smiling in spite of himself. "I'm not very good at talking to girls."

"You're talking to me, aren't you?"

"Yes, but you're—," and then he stopped himself, because now she was standing up and bending over, leaning into him. The neck of her T-shirt hung down, and he inadvertently caught a glimpse of a naked, pale breast. He felt the tips of his ears burning and he scrambled to look in any other direction, stammering.

But Mimi didn't seem to care, or at least she was intent on another purpose altogether. "If you will allow me the great liberty of speaking on behalf of my sex, I will just say that I for one really liked talking to you," she said. "And I hope you'll give yourself a bit of a break, Iori. Something tells me you deserve a little bit of a break."

And with a small smile, she closed the distance between them with a kiss, like she was sealing the deal.

Her full lips were soft on his own, and he tasted strawberry gloss. He felt a tingling rush sweep through his fingers and toes, reaching every part of his body, like he was waking up.

She pulled back, hands clasped behind her back, and straightened, head cocked to the side. "Be open to what happens in your life, and you'll be just fine. I promise." She winked again, playfully nudging his chin with her hand, and then was gone.

Iori sat for a while after she left the room, touching his fingers to his lips. He had not been the sort to dream about his first kiss, but he could not have imagined one more perfect than that, on a day as important as this, with friends who he had never loved more than he did now.

He felt something like contentment settle over him, or maybe it was confidence. Whatever it was, it filled him like a warm embrace, and this time he looked at the next few years with a little more hope. Maybe Mimi was right. He would be open, and he would give himself a little bit of a break.

Standing up, he filled up a jug of water from the kitchen tap and grabbed the last bottle of soda from the fridge, reentering Takeru's bedroom at last. His friends were still sitting in their circle on the floor and they beamed at him when he entered, Daisuke cheering when he saw more soda. Hikari poured them all a cup, Miyako sticking with her glass of water, and proposed a toast to her bespectacled friend.

"To Miyako," she declared, cup raised, "and best wishes for the last semester of her first year of university."

"To you all, and best of luck on the last months of your high school life," added Miyako happily, looking around at the three older teenagers. "Trust me, it goes by so fast."

"Not fast enough," said Daisuke dismissively, though he still looked around at his friends with affection.

"And to Iori," said Takeru, "who is the best of all of us."

Iori hesitated, surprised, and saw that the four of them were now staring back at him with full and understanding grins. He felt the warmness from Mimi's kiss return and once again sweep over him, but this time it was stronger and deeper. He blinked quickly. "Thank you." He drank his toast, but stopped in the middle of his sip when he saw they weren't doing to the same. "What are you guys—?"

And then they were on him, soda spilling from upturned cups as they piled on top of each other, laughing and pulling him into a huge embrace, squeezing the air from his lungs and the fear from his heart.


End file.
